


visitation of the ghost

by Purpleskiesofdragons



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, Screwing With Time, Sleep Deprivation, but it’s tony so are you surprised
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28151688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purpleskiesofdragons/pseuds/Purpleskiesofdragons
Summary: Some people say that ghosts aren’t really real— they just appear in places where time is a bit thin.The first time Tony sees him, he’s sure that he’s hallucinating.
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Stephen Strange
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9
Collections: SHIP WARS





	visitation of the ghost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heyitsjames](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyitsjames/gifts).



The first time Tony sees _him_ , he’s sure that he’s hallucinating. It’s four am, he’s pretty sure he’s existing only on coffee and spite, and he hasn’t slept properly in three days, okay? Still, he squints when he sees the outline of a crib, rocking… _itself_ …? gently in the corner of his workshop. Soft cries come from within, and as much as he knows that investigating is probably a bad idea, he does anyway. You know, like an idiot. 

As he gets closer, he realizes very quickly that something isn’t quite _right_. (Aka, he really should have gotten backup of some kind). The air around the crib is flickering weirdly, like it’s just barely there; sure enough, when he tries to place his hand on the edge, his hand goes right through. 

“What the fuck?” Tony says out loud, before peering into the crib, and— _oh_. 

A child is looking back up at him, eyes wide and tearful. It can’t be more than a few months old, and its blankets are clenched tightly in its small fists. It’s letting out little whimpers of distress and is clearly searching for something. And, well, Tony is really bad around crying children. Shit. 

“Hey,” he says awkwardly, as quietly as he can. “Don’t cry, alright? Your mom will be here soon.” The child continues to cry. _Rethink, Stark. What do babies like?_ He can’t feed the kid— who isn’t even corporeal— much less pick it up and rock it. 

“FRIDAY, help please,” he begs the ceiling. He can hear FRIDAY flicker to life, and suddenly, soft music begins to filter its way through the speakers. It’s a lullaby, he realizes, a piano piece that his mom often played for him when he was little. Nervously, he braces for more tears from the crib, but to his surprise, the baby quiets, cries falling silent so it can hear the music. 

“You like it?” he asks softly. The child lets out a contented little gurgle, and slowly but surely, its eyes flutter closed. Tony looks up to thank FRIDAY, but when his gaze returns to the corner, the crib and the child have disappeared. 

* * *

The next time he sees the child, it’s been two years, and Tony’s forgotten all about the first encounter. However, when he sees the shivering image of a young boy at the edge of his vision, sitting on the couch of Avengers Tower, everything comes rushing back. The boy looks up at him as he approaches, and holds up the broken pieces of a toy car. 

“Broke it,” he says, voice wobbling. “Dunno how to fix.” Tony settles on the couch beside him, trying to ignore the cold brush of air he feels when his leg brushes the boy’s, and leans forward to inspect the toy closer. On closer inspection, it’s a quick fix; one of the doors has been dislocated, and it looks like he just needs to slot it into its waiting hinges. He mimes this to the boy, whose eyes flood with wonder as he copies Tony, the pieces clicking back into place. 

“Thanks, sir!” he says, voice more cheerful than before, and hops off the couch, running off with his mended car. He disappears right before he hits the wall. 

Tony scrubs one hand across his face, and concludes that he really does need more sleep. 

* * *

The third time he sees the child, it’s not even him who sees it— it’s Steve. Tony’s been working on a new nanotech project for awhile, and the rap of knuckles against his lab door nearly startles him into screwing up the formation of delicate atoms he’s been arranging. Holding back a curse, he yanks the door open, intent on giving whoever disturbed him a small earful. 

“Wh— oh, hey,” Steve says hesitantly, hand still hovering over the place where the door had been. “Bad time?” 

“Sort of, Spangles,” Tony replies, though he relaxes slightly. “What do you want?” 

“I saw this weird kid,” Steve replies. “I know it sounds strange, but he kinda—” Tony holds up one hand, closing his eyes with a muffled groan. _So it’s not just him, huh?_

“Come in,” he says wearily. Steve trails after him like a lost dog, and takes the proffered seat on the (very messy) couch shoved into one corner of the lab. 

“I was out on a mission with Quill and Groot,” Steve begins, once both of them are settled in a semi-awkward silence. Not ideal, but what’s to be expected when your teammate tells you he’s seen a hallucination that you were certain was a horrible lovechild of caffeine and sleep deprivation? “We were cleaning up this bunch of flesh-eating aliens that were trying to eat some passerby, but I heard this crying noise coming from an abandoned building.” 

“And then you find a kid, about eight, and he asks you for help,” Tony interrupts. Steve looks at him in bemusement. 

“Yes, how—?” 

“I’ve seen him before,” Tony replies. “Showed up twice in the past couple of years. Thought I was seeing things for a while, but I guess not.” 

“So I find him,” Steve continues, “and he’s sitting against a wall, crying, so I ask him what’s wrong. He says his parents have been angry and fighting with each other a lot, so I just kinda—” he shrugs vaguely— “tell him stories, I guess? He seemed to like listening to me, so I told him about me n’ Buck when we lived in Brooklyn.”

“Cute.”

“Shut up,” Steve snorts. “It works, and the weird part is, he just— disappeared after I paused for a second. Couldn’t find anything weird about where he was sitting, no idea where he came from.” 

“Seems about right,” Tony sighs. “I mean, it’s comforting to know that your hallucinations are now a group fever dream, but why’d you come get me, though?”

“He had your—” Steve gestures at his face. 

“My what? Charming wit? Dashing smile? Billionaire-genius-playboy-philanthropist vibe?” 

“Your eyes,” Steve lands on finally. “Same… look.” 

“You mean, _haven’t slept in a week, certainly looks like a raccoon?_ Thanks, Cap.” 

“Same determination,” Steve corrects. Tony raises one eyebrow. “That look you get in your eyes when you’ve just been through hell but you’re still ready to kick ass.” 

“Better,” Tony amends. “Was a bit worried about what you were going to say there, for a bit.” 

“You’ve got nothing to fear, unless you saddle me with kitchen duty for the team again,” Steve says wryly. 

“I like your pancakes! Everyone likes your pancakes.” Steve rolls his eyes good-naturedly and rises, wincing a little as he stretches. 

“I better get back. Fury’s probably expecting a mission report.” Tony waves him off, and once he’s sure that the door’s closed and Steve’s footsteps have receded, takes a long swig from his coffee mug. 

_What the fuck is going on?_

* * *

“I’ve been seeing this kid,” Tony begins. He’s not even sure what he’s doing here, exactly— he received some vague instructions from Fury and a hastily scribbled street address, and now he’s standing in the entryway of some weird ancient building while a cranky wizard guy walks around, levitating seven different books at once and reading three of them. He calls himself Doctor Strange, which seems rather on point, but Tony privately resolves not to say that out loud. 

“Odd, flickering image, as if it’s a hologram or projection, often asks for help and upon receiving it, disappears from view?” Dr. Strange lists boredly, not looking up. Tony blinks.

“Uh, yeah—?” 

“Common occurrence of time wearing thin between two timelines,” Dr. Strange explains. “They’re often mistaken for ghost sightings, but timelines can occasionally brush, resulting in harmless appearances of familiar figures in the periphery.” Before Tony can even open his mouth to ask _how the fuck do you know that_ or even _thank_ him, for that matter, he’s falling and landing on the hard cement in front of Avengers Tower. A shower of orange sparks fizzles out above him as he rubs his back. 

_Well then._

* * *

The final time Tony sees the boy, he’s much older— fifteen, maybe, and already carries the shadow of the familiar bags under his eyes that Tony has now. He’s sitting at Tony’s desk, poring over some unknown paper with fervor. Occasionally, his hand moves to turn an invisible page or scribble down notes. Tony hesitates at the door, unsure if he should break the boy from his trance. 

“I’ve already had dinner,” the boy calls, not bothering to look up. Guess he’s noticed Tony after all. “Just need to finish this up.” Tony turns to leave, not sure what exactly the boy needs, but in the silence, he hears an indiscernible murmur of a voice, the soft click of boots on hardwood. He’s not alone in this memory, apparently. 

“I’m fine,” the boy insists. “One more hour of studying. That’s all I need.” Another murmur. “But I need to get accepted! It’s my _dream_.” The voice whispers on, presumably on a rant, and the boy throws down his invisible pencil. “Fine! Half an hour, okay, Jarvis?” Tony freezes as the boy glances up, twisting his body toward the door, but his eyes are unseeing, looking straight through Tony. Excluding the silent chant of _what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck_ marching through his head, pieces are slowly coming together in his mind, and he can see what Steve means now. It’s barely there and swamped with tiredness, but he can see the passion in the boy’s eyes, in the way he holds himself. This isn’t any kid. 

_It’s me._

Tony continues watching as the ~~boy~~ Tony turns back to his work, the sound of pencil scratching filling the air once more. His figure is fading slower now, slower than it had before, but before he disappears completely, he turns around again. This time, it seems as though he’s looking straight at Tony, and his brows are furrowed, looking for something he can’t quite see. 

“You’re gonna go big places, kid,” Tony murmurs. He’s not even sure that his younger self can hear him, but a small smile crosses his face all the same before he fades from sight completely. 

Tony doesn’t see him again after that. 

**Author's Note:**

> what is time but a thing to mess with
> 
> title taken from the song ‘visitation of the ghost’ by the brobecks


End file.
